


Love Works in Mysterious Ways

by Asnazu



Series: Mysterious Ways [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forbidden Love, Gendry x Arya reunion, If You Squint - Freeform, Little bit of angst, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 06, Season 7 Spoilers, Stark reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asnazu/pseuds/Asnazu
Summary: Jon is falling for Sansa without knowing she hides feelings of her own. Arya returnes and reunites not only with her family but also with Gendry. Two kinds of forbidden love grow in Winterfell and only Bran knows how it all will end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Life Works in Mysterious Ways happened after Sansa's nightmare but before Arya's arrival. 
> 
> Both can be read as stand-alone.

Jon watched over the castle from the wooden balcony. Winterfell was quiet, everyone except the watchers was fast asleep. Only snow was falling down from the grey heavy clouds above, even the wind stopped howling. The silence might seem scary and weird but somehow it calmed him. Ghost was rolled into a ball by his feet, his white fur darkened with melting snow. Even though Jon could not sleep he decided to go back to his room because he felt how the cold started getting to him. He whistled at Ghost and the direwolf followed him to the corridor that led to his room, room that used to be Robb’s. Sansa insisted that he takes the second biggest bedroom after the Lord’s chamber when he refused to move to their father’s bedroom in her favor. “King in the North cannot sleep in the tiny room that wasn’t big enough even for a growing boy,” she argued and he had to admit that he felt quite constricted by his old room when he saw it again, even though back then, before he went to Wall, he never had such feeling.  
While he was passing Sansa’s door he heard weird noises – screams, cries and sobs. Jon busted through the door, pulling out his sword that shone in the moonlight only to find the room empty. Sansa was buried under the furs, her eyes closed, hands clamped in cramps and her body shaking. She was asleep, Jon realized she must have a nightmare. All day she was brave and strong, not letting anyone know her feelings or thoughts, it was no surprise that at night in sleep she could not control herself. She never told him what Ramsay did to her, but he didn’t have to be genius to figure it out. He would be surprised if she didn’t have nightmares. Jon went to her, leaned his sword against the pellet of her bed, sat down next to her and shook her shoulder.

“Sansa, it’s okay, it is just a dream,” he whispered to her. She woke up with a jolt and screamed not really recognizing the face in front of her.

“Sansa, San, it’s me, Jon. You are okay.” The redhead blinked few times.

“Where am I? What happened?”

“We are at Winterfell. We are home, you are safe …. Ramsay is dead, he cannot hurt you anymore.”

“He can’t hurt me anymore, I am safe,” she repeated after him.

“You are safe, it was just a dream,” he hugged her and she clutched to him, holding him tight, he was surprised how much strength she possessed. When she calmed down, Jon asked her how she felt.

“It’s better, thank you. It was just a nightmare.”

“Do you have them often?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged her shoulders, “but I will survive.” The glimpse of warrior in her blue eyes showed him her real strength and will.

“I know, you always do,” he smiled and kissed her forehead, “good night sister.”

When he was reaching for the door he heard small whimper behind him.

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“Will you … will you stay please? For tonight?” She wasn’t even looking at him, probably ashamed for asking him such thing.

“Of course,” he closed the door and ordered Ghost to lay down by them. When he laid down on the floor, started settling down and tightening his cloak around him he heard her voice again.

“What are you doing?” Sansa peered curiously from behind the furs.

“Staying with you for the night,” he looked at her like it was obvious.

“I’m not letting you freeze to death.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I slept on the snow and ice far beyond the Wall for days, I will be fine here.”

“No, please, come to bed.”

“Are you sure about that?” he sounded concerned.

“I am.”

“I don’t kno –“

“Come here,” her voice was firm not giving any room for complains, “no discussion, even King in the North has to listen to his advisors and family.”

“As my lady wishes.”

She smiled at him and uncovered the right side of her bed. Jon took off his cloak and boots and slipped under the furs facing his sister. After few minutes Sansa closed her eyes and fell asleep. Jon was looking at her. Her face calm, her red hair sprayed over the pillow. Kissed by fire, that is what Ygritte used to say. Sansa reminded him of that wildling girl, over the past weeks more than ever. Independent, strong, brave, smart. He lost Ygritte but he will not lose Sansa, no he will protect her to his last breath.

“You will be safe, sweet sister. As long as I’m around, no one will hurt you again. I will personally kill anyone who even thinks about it.” Little did he know that Sansa was only pretending to be asleep and heard what he said.

 

When Sansa woke in the morning Jon was long gone but Ghost was still lying by her door. Since then it became a habit. Every night when the castle was asleep Jon sneaked into her room and every morning when the sun came up he returned to his own room leaving Ghost behind to guide her door. And if during those nights they talked, reminisced, cried and cuddled, they never spoke about it the broad daylight. It was their deal – get the best out of each other presence and never talk about it.

Ever since his resurrection Jon could not sleep properly and when he felt asleep his dreams were filled with knives, darkness and White Walkers. With Sansa in his arms he could sleep more peacefully and even though he could not remember it in the morning he dreamed about warm fire, warm lake in the cave and red hair. Sansa’s nights were filled with nightmares about Ramsay ever since she escaped Winterfell. She found out that Jon’s presence calmed her down, make her feel safe and that Jon’s breath lured her into dreamless sleep.

 

Arya never thought she would see such a beautiful sight in her life ever again. She was currently sitting on her horse, standing on the hill above Winterfell. The place looked good, almost as she remembered. Snow was slowly falling down covering everything with white blanket, green and white flags shimmering in the wind. The flag above the gate opened with the wind and a grey direwolf on it settled relief in her hearth. House Stark is not dead as everyone thought, they are still here and not going anywhere. They took back their home and no matter which of her siblings she would find inside she would be glad. Arya directed the horse from the hill. When she reached the gate she went to the first soldiers on watch she saw.

“Good morning. Which of the Starks I would find here today?”

“All of them. Lady Sansa, Lord Bran and the King in the North.”

“Take me to them, please, I need to speak with them.”

“That is not possible. The lords and lady are busy, you will have to wait for another peasant audience,” one of the soldiers stepped into her way.

“Oh I can assure you they will make time for me.”

 

Gendry was in the forge working on Lord Bran’s new horse harness thinking he was never more grateful for his profession choice. The forge was only place in the whole damned North that was warm. Suddenly he heard some noise near the gate – two soldiers were arguing with a girl. Her dark hair pulled into small ponytail similar to Jon’s, her clothes were old, worn out, slightly ripped and looked damp probably from the snow. She seemed familiar and then he heard the voice. He threw his gloves on the table, grabbed his cloak and without bothering to take of his apron he crossed the square in few quick strides.

“Let her go,” he growled and the guards jumped into the air in surprise.

“We can’t, she demands an audience with the lords.”

“She has every right to demand such a thing, this is Arya Stark, you idiots, _their sister_.”

“Gendry,” she smiled brightly and jumped into his arms, “you are alive. What are you doing here?”

“That is a long story,” he smiled at her and hugged her.

“Arya Stark is dead, no one have seen her or heard of her since Lord Stark’s execution,” one of the guards objected.

“Well, if people think you are dead, they will stop looking for you. I, on the other hand, saw Arya Stark four years ago in the Riverlands and she was pretty much alive. And now she is standing right here.”

“If you saw her four years ago, how can you be sure this is her? She was little girl back then.”

“I would recognize that voice and eyes anywhere. You don’t forget the things that hunt you in your dreams. I will take her to her brothers and sister. Be useful and take care of her horse.”

 

“I hunt you in your dreams?” Arya asked half curious half hurt.

“Not really you,” Gendry chuckled sadly, “but the way we parted does.”

“I was sure she was going to kill you.”

“She tried, if you want I will tell you all about it later,” he offered and Arya nodded.

“So tell me. Who is the King in the North?” she asked and brought Gendry’s cloak closer to her body as they were walking through the cold corridors. They heavy smell of smoke and fire that was caught in the fur hit her nose, but she didn’t mind that smell, she actually liked it. “Robb was King in the North, but Robb is dead. I saw his body.”

“Jon is the King,” Gendry smiled.

“Jon?” he eyes widened with surprise, “you mean my brother Jon Snow?”

“Exactly that one.”

“But how does brother of the Night’s Watch become a king?”

“Well that is another long story. I’m sure he will tell you.”

“It looks like it will be long evening full of long stories.”

 

The door to the Great Hall opened and Gendry went through them.

“Gendry, what - “ Jon tried to ask but was interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

“I apologize for interrupting you, your Grace, m’ladies, m’lord,” he bowed to Sansa, Meera and Bran, “but there is something – someone – you would want to see immediately.”

He stepped aside just when Arya crossed the threshold and marched into the room with confidence and smile on her lips. She took in the room - the wooden tables and benches, the grey direwolf on the white field on the wall across from her – and the people sitting around the table. There was Jon sitting in the middle of the table, looking much older than she remembered him, Sansa on his right side with her red hair put back in braids, middle aged man she didn’t know on his left. That woman from the Eyrie sitting next to Sansa, Bran was sitting on the short side of the table with brown-haired girl beside him, Ghost lying in front of the table.

“You didn’t invite me in this little family gathering, I’m hurt.”

Jon was the first one to recover from the shock and run around the table to greet her with Sansa following closely behind.

“Arya,” his voice crackled as he hugged her in tight embrace and picked her off the ground. When he put her back to her feet he didn’t let go of her. “Look at you,” he said with watery eyes, “you grew so much, I almost didn’t recognize you. You still have the Needle …”

“I do,” she smiled, “I see you also changed, I heard you are King in the North now,” she raised her eyebrow and he chuckled, “nice cloak by the way.”

“Sansa made it for me,” he swelled with pride.

“Really? I guess things changed more than I thought,” she looked at her sister like she saw her for the first time in her life. Jon stepped aside and the next moment Arya found herself being squished to death by the redhead. 

 

“Where is Rickon?” Arya looked around her siblings. Jon hanged his head between his shoulders, Sansa’s face stiffened almost unnoticeably and her blue eyes took color of stormy sky, Bran looked everywhere but not at her. They didn’t have tell more. “He’s dead, isn’t he? How?”

“Sansa and I gathered army with the help of Northern lords to take back Winterfell and our brother from Ramsay Bolton – his father was one of those who betrayed Robb – and before the battle even started he killed Rickon in one of his sick games. He made him run and before I reached him – “ Jon took deep breath, “he shoot him. I was so close, maybe if I rode faster I would – “ his eyes were full of guilt and regret.

“No,” Sansa said in firm voice and put hand on his biceps. Arya noticed that Jon leaned into that touch even though he probably didn’t realize that. She was certain that more things than she expected changed between these two. “You did what you could, he wanted you to feel this way, to blame yourself. He wanted Rickon dead and there was nothing you could do with that. What matters is that we won and he cannot hurt anyone anymore.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION: There is a scene between Gendry and Arya that could be counted as explicit. I personally do not think of it that way because things that usually are labeled as explicit are far beyond this. But rather be safe than sorry, right? :)

Jon started to enjoy the sleepless nights, he could watch Sansa sleep in his arms whole night. Listening to her beating heart, slow breath and cute little snores she would never admit doing, because ladies just don’t snore. Her red hair splayed over her pillow and his chest. After so many nights he could recognize when she was having bad dream. Her hands clamped into fists, little distressed whimpers leaving her mouth, her nose scrunching up. Whenever she started stir in her sleep like this he brought her closer and stroke her hair and back. She calmed almost immediately. At first it was just helping out his sister, just like when she was little and always sneaked into his and Robb’s room when there was storm outside. He remembered those times even though she probably did not, the times when he was just little boy with siblings, before Lady Stark decided that her son and her husband’s bastard cannot sleep in one room. But with every passing night with grown-up Sansa in his arms he realized that he loved her more than he ever loved Robb or Arya, maybe not more but definitely differently. And every night he hated himself for it more.

Inappropriate. Wrong. Sick. What would father say? Or Robb? No, no one will ever know. He promised to protect her and he will, even if that means in front of himself. The thoughts he had about his smart, brave, strong and beautiful sister at night was his most guarded secret. Secret he will take to his grave. Little did he know that Sansa had secret on her own.

\---

“I am sorry, I should have leave with you when you wanted,” Gendry said while he was putting away his tools. Arya was sitting on the railing that went around the outside part of the forge, swinging her legs in the air.

“That was long time ago, I am not mad, you did what you thought was best.”

“I was afraid,” he said quietly with his back to her.

“Of what?”

“That if we make it to your brother I will just go back to being no one and you the princess. I was afraid you would not want to be friends anymore,” he turned around just to see her surprised face.

“I would never stop being friends with you.”

“I know and I am sorry I didn’t know it back then.” For a few minutes no words were spoken between them. Only Gendry’s actions of organizing his work tools interrupted the silence. “I saw you training with Brienne, you were great. I guess you were busy during the years we haven’t been together.”

“Indeed I was.”

“Will you spare with me?”

“What?” she raised her eyebrows with surprise.

“I got better, I trained.”

“Okay, let’s try it.” She pulled out Needle and Gendry grabbed the nearest sword. Arya was patient, calm, quick. Moving fluently, she almost danced. Gendry on the other hand was slower, his strikes heavier and longer in lasting thanks to his physique and occupation. He was not bad but Arya was better, he managed to get the sword out of her hand but she knocked him down on the ground, straddled him and put the Valyrian steel dagger to his throat.

“You were telling truth. You are better than I remember, but still there are things to improve,” she smiled at him.

“War hammer is my weapon of choice, I assure you I’m better with that,” he laughed. His laugh died out quickly when he realized he was still laying on the ground with Arya on top of him. His eyes wandered to her lips and back to her eyes. He noticed she was also looking onto his lips. They were so close, inappropriately close, he could feel her breath and then … she pressed her lips to his. She let go of the dagger and touched the base of his neck with her right hand instead. Gendry acted on instinct and put his hand on her waist. It all took few seconds until he realized the horrible mistake he made and broke the kiss.

“Something wrong?”

“Something wrong?” he repeated with amazement in his voice and tried to stand up, “Arya, everything is wrong. Firstly you were child when we met.”

“I am not a child anymore, Gendry,” she said while she was picking up the dagger and her sword.

“Secondly you are a lady and I am just a bastard,” he reminded her without addressing her response, knowing she was right. “It could never be even if we want it,” he said quietly with his back to her when he marched towards the forge. Stubborn as always she followed him.

“I am no lady, my mother was a lady, my sister is a lady, but I never was and never will be.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Gendry turned to her and shut the door to the inner part of the forge behind her. He slammed his hands on the wood, caging her between them knowing very well that if she wanted she would get away in seconds. “You are high born, your father was a lord, your mother was a lady, that makes you a lady whether you want it or not. My father might be a king once, but my mother was a tavern girl. People will always know your name, know you. You are Stark, I am Waters, these are the facts. This,” he touched her cheek with his hand that was hardened with years of forging steel, “us, we could never be. People will not accept it.”

“I don’t care about that. I don’t need to be accepted. I never was. My thoughts, wishes, desires, they were never accepted. I got used to that years ago,” she made step forward and put hands on his chest.

“And lastly Jon would kill me,” he whispered.

“He would not, Jon likes you.”

“Aye, he does, until he finds out I took advantage of his sister. You did not see his face when he thought we did something when we traveled together.”

“You are not taking advantage of me, I kissed YOU,” she emphasized the last word with a light punch to his chest.

“He would not believe that. He almost snapped that Greyjoy boy in half while he only asked if your sister was alright.”

“That’s different. Theon betrayed Robb, he attacked Winterfell, when Robb was away leaving Bran who could not walk and baby Rickon in charge, his men killed most of the people who lived here.”

“And what about that dwarf? Tyrion Lannister. He asked about your sister and Jon had this flash of anger in his eyes. He just growls at anyone who dares to even say her name. Do you think it would be different with you?” Gendry paced around the room trying to make her see his point. She was standing in the middle of the room where he left her and watching him closely.

“It will be. There is something between Sansa and Jon, something I can’t detect yet, but he is more possessive and protective of her than he is of me. Which is very strange considering they didn’t even talk when they were kids,” she waved her hand not wanting to get into that discussion. “But the point is - leave my brother to me, I will deal with him.”

“Arya – look at me,” he opened his arms, “I’m just a craftsman, I have nothing but few pieces of clothing, few gold coins saved and my hammer. I have nothing to offer you.”

“What about your trust, loyalty, your care and friendship, your smile and laugh, your love? That seem like nothing to you? Isn’t that enough?” she stepped closer to him.

“For a commoner yes, but for a lady? I don’t think so.”

“Tell me one thing, Gendry. My brother aside if I wasn’t high-born would you hesitate?” her grey eyes looked into his blue ones. Gendry opened his mouth to answer but closed it again without saying anything. Then he ran his hand through his short black hair.

“No,” he whispered finally. He knew she would know if he lied to her and what more he didn’t want to lie. Every girl he met he unconsciously compared to her. Too tall, too blond, not smart enough, not brave enough. It took him years to realize – especially now when he knew she was alive – that he would not settle for anything less than the real thing, the real Arya. But he wasn’t stupid, he knew he could not really be with her. That was his curse – dreaming about something he could never had.

“Good, now shut up and kiss me.”

\---

Sansa liked to watch Jon. She watched him interact with the lords and with the common people. She watched him talk with the guards and with the castle’s staff. She watched him train sword fighting with boys, young and older men alike, showing them tricks, teaching them how to not get killed. She watched him teaching girls to shoot from a bow, telling them stories about the greatest archer beyond the Wall he knew, wildling girl named Ygritte, assuring them that if she could do that they could too. She enjoyed his interaction with kids the most, the pure admiration and trust in their faces, they loved him, boys and girls alike. Everyone liked him. He was a good man and a good lord and king even though he would not hear that. Too much for his own good. He promised to protect her, but she had to protect him from the people lurking in the shadows, like Littlefinger. Jon was too good, too trusting and righteous to see that other people weren’t like him. She would not survive if someone took him from her.

She could not remember why she avoided him and looked down at him when they were kids. He is clever, loyal, righteous, loves and cares for his people. He saw things no one can imagine and it made him nothing but kind. And even though it took her a while to admit it he also became very handsome man. Currently he was sword fighting with Brienne, saying that from time to time he needs to train with someone who knows what he is doing so he would not forget it. His sword shining in the winter sun, his dark brown hair put back into a ponytail. He stripped to his tunic and a leather jerkin and she could watch his arms flex and his back muscles ripple with every swing of the sword.

Why the only good man at this continent must be her brother? Targaryens married their own sisters and brothers for centuries and no one cared. So did Lannisters and disaster named Joffrey happened, said the little voice in her head that sounded too much like her father's. Right, Jon would never even thought about her like that, he is not damaged and sick like her.

\---

“I knew I would find you here,” Gendry didn’t hear her come inside but he smiled at the sound of her voice even though she could not see it because he had his back to her. He turned around.

“M’lady,” he bowed his head.

“Do not call me that,” she replied in voice that might seem stern to other people, but he heard hint of amusement and teasing in it. She closed the door to the inner part of the forge behind her and went to him.

“Would you mind if I finish this sword? I do not like to walk away from unfinished work.”

“Sure, I like to watch you work,” Arya went to the closest table, laid her cloak, gloves and weapons on one side and sat down on the other.

“Why?”

“It is fascinating how you manage to create something useful from a piece of steel,” she shrugged her shoulders. Gendry chuckled but he didn’t say anything and went back to his work. The fact that she liked to watch him work also because he used to do so half naked she left for herself.

He got little taller over the years, his shoulders got wider and he gained more muscles, which she could currently see almost in all their glory. His brown pants were low on his hips and he was topples except for the leather apron, wristbands and bands for his hands. There were few smudges of ash on his arms. It was hypnotizing how his arm and back muscles clenched and rippled with every swing of the hammer. His short dark hair plastered to his forehead by the heat, hint of a stubble on his face. She already knew how it felt on her neck while he kissed her, but she could not help herself to wonder how it would feel somewhere else. For example between …

“Arya?”

“Huh,” his voice pulled her out of her thoughts, “yes?”

“Would you bring me that small curved hammer over there? Are you alright?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I am fine. This one?” she picked up the hammer, slipped from the table and handed it to him.

“Thank you.”

She stepped back and returned to her starring. She saw drops of sweat run down his back and get caught at the waistband of his pants. She listened to his heavy breathing caused both by the heat and the work. She felt a shiver of arousal run down her body.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” she tried to play innocent.

“Like you want to devour me alive.”

That was enough for her. Arya crossed the short distance between them, looked straight into his eyes and licked her lips.

“Well,” she put her right hand on his and dragged it up his arm to his shoulder. She felt him stiffen and clench the hand in order to not let go of the hammer in his hand. When her hand went up to his shoulder, her other hand joined the first one on his back. “Maybe I want to.”

“Arya, we agreed to take it slow,” he reminded her quietly.

Arya rested her hands on Gendry’s shoulder-blades and her forehead between them. His skin was warm and slightly wet from the sweat. That was also one of the things that she smelled on him, along with fire, smoke and iron. Somehow that smell felt like home. “And we did. For two weeks we didn’t do anything more than kissing. Do you not want more?”

“Of course I do. I just …” she felt him shiver when she caressed his back all the way to his lower back, “I just do not want to force you into anything.”

“You are not. I am here, touching you, showing you that I want it too,” her right hand went to his crotch, finding the evidence of his arousal there. Slight whimper left his lips. Suddenly she withdrew her hand and stepped back from him.

“Oh, Gods, I am forcing you, I am sorry, I never wanted that,” she stammered until Gendry turned around, put hands on her shoulders and spoke in serious voice.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw different eyes looking at her. This wasn’t the sweet, shy and rules-respecting Gendry she knew. No, this man starring back at her was fierce and dominant. When he spoke even his voice was different, deeper. “If anything doesn’t feel right, let me know.” She nodded and wondered how quickly their tables turned.

“Now loose that jerkin and go sit back on the table. I will finish this sword like I wanted to.” Arya loosed the ties of the leather jerkin while Gendry watched. She let it fall from her shoulders to the floor leaving her in her trousers and black tunic. “Good, now back on the table, m’lady.”

Arya sat back on the table and watched him to return to his work. She wondered what she got herself into. Could she handle this side of him? Side she never knew he had? He swung his hammer over and over again, he looked so calm but he seemed so animalistic just few moments ago, almost dangerous. Did he always had it inside him or did she cause this? She didn’t know but she liked that. She watched him and found herself even more aroused. His sweaty arms and back were glistening in the dim, shimmering light caused by the fire and the few lamps over the forge. He was so strong …

“Ah – no,” she heard him say, he raised his right hand while still holding the hammer, “hands on the table, m’lady.”

She blinked in confusion not really understanding what he meant. He nodded toward her right hand that was trying to find way to her trousers. She didn’t even noticed that her hand had mind of its own.

Gendry returned to his work wondering how this will play out. He knew she wasn’t as innocent in this department as her siblings would like to believe and he also had few adventures on his own, but what this will be like? What would she want? So far she seemed to be on board but what if something changed? He believed she would tell him, so he decided to continue and see where it will lead them. He swung the hammer for the last time, left it at the anvil and put the sword into the barrel with melted snow to cool. After few moments he laid the finished sword across the barrel. Gendry grabbed the nearest rag he found and dried his face and arms. Quickly he pulled of his apron and threw it along with the rag towards the nearest table. In two long strides he reached Arya and put his hands on the table next to her hips. Gendry kissed her and she let him step between her legs.

“Now, m’lady, tell me, what were you thinking about before your attempt to seduce me?”

“I thought – what it would feel like to,“ she stammered. Gods, why his eyes has to be so intense? “How would your stubble feel between my legs,” she breathed out finally. He just smirked and his hands went to her trousers, dragging them down as he started to kneel.

“Let’s find out.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ideas keep coming so it will not have three parts but six :)

Once again Jon woke too soon. He got dressed quietly, took his sword, kissed sleeping Sansa on her forehead and scratched Ghost behind his ears and left the room. He put on his gloves and pulled his cloak tighter around his body when he stepped on the yard and went into the direction of the Godswood. The castle was still quiet and asleep, according to the light it was still about an hour to dawn. Nowadays no one asked why the King in the North was awake so soon just as no one was surprised anymore that Ghost left the Lord’s chambers with Sansa every morning and followed her around unless Jon was with her. Jon was stepping through the gate leading to the Godswood when he heard a door open. He turned around and noticed that it was the back door to the forge. Male figure was standing in the door and much smaller and familiar figure was leaving the house and slipping into the shadows. The woman disappeared in nearest entrance to the castle, it was no ordinary woman, Jon realized, it was Arya. It made perfect sense, Arya with her skills and physique was better at hiding and sneaking around than a clumsy blacksmith.

If Gendry lied to him, he will not like the consequences. He likes that man but if he hurt Arya …

\---

Sansa found Jon sitting under the heart tree, it was either here or in the crypts. He went there every time he needed to think, just like father did. Ghost was following her silently, almost merging with the snow around. Jon didn’t noticed her arrival, she tore him out of his thoughts when she laid hand on his shoulder. His left hand went to her wrist and his right to his sword, only then he noticed who she was.

“Gods, Sansa, don’t do this to me. I could have kill you.”

“You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t hear me coming. You weren’t at the breakfast, what is bothering you?” she asked softly. Jon noticed that sometimes, usually during their night talks, she put away her stone expression and stopped controlling herself for a few moments, but only in front of him.

“Arya, it’s about Arya.”

“What about her?” she asked confused, she saw Arya today at breakfast and it didn’t look like there was something wrong with her. Exact opposite of it, she was radiant, making jokes and laughing.

“I saw her leaving Gendry’s forge today before the dawn.”

“Oh, I see,” Sansa nodded and sat down on the stone across from Jon.

“You knew about it? And you did nothing?” Jon looked really surprised.

“It was not my concern as long as I was the only one who knew about it,” the redhead shrugged her shoulders. “After all she is old enough. But now when you know, it is only a matter of time when others will know too.”

“Who are you and what did you do with my sister?” his eyes narrowed.

“I changed, Jon. We all did.”

“I am just worried about her. If he lied to me and hurt her, I –“

“I don’t think so. Arya would not let anyone do anything she did not want. We both know that she was the one who initiate the relationship. I am sure he did not hurt her or rape her. And I am also sure he did not lied to you when you met,” Sansa touched his forearm.

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Because of his face, his love for her is recent, new,” she explained and when she saw that it did not help him very much she continued, “You see, most of the people do not have reason to hide their emotions. They can lie with their words but not with their faces and eyes. And I can tell you that Gendry’s eyes don’t lie, he is an open book, just like you,” she chuckled when Jon’s eyes widened with shock and fear. “His love for Arya is sincere and new, believe me.”

“You believe in love?”

“I lost my faith in love years ago. But every time I see Gendry looking at Arya with such admiration and devotion I remember what it felt like to believe.”

 _It doesn’t have to be like that_ , Jon thought. He could … no he chased that thought away. They had more important things to discuss and he changed the topic.

“When you knew about them why did you not talked with them?”

“Because we know how it will go. We will try to make Arya see the facts. She would scream and shout that she doesn’t care about any of that. You would brood over you inner fight, torn between granting her what she wants because she deserves it and keep the image of traditions and customs of your kingdom. Gendry would be shaking, afraid you would execute him because he would think that you think that he raped Arya or took advantage of her. Even though we both know it was her who made the first step. Bran would watch us quietly because he already knows the outcome and the afternoon for all of us would be ruined.”

“How do you – do you have visions too?”

“No, I know our family. A honorable bastard, who came back from the dead. A cripple, who sees everything past and future, which somehow really creeps me out. A skilled assassin, who is driven by her temper and emotionless, heartless bitch, who even though is hiding behind diplomacy and courtesy is just as deadly as any of them. What could possibly go wrong?”

They looked at each other for a moment and started laughing. Like that time on the battle settlements when the raven from the Citadel came.

“If it was up to me I would not care about their relationship, unfortunately the lords will do. And we cannot lose them if we want to win this war. We would have to talk to Arya and Gendry and they have to understand. This cannot be.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t have to. If we can’t bend the rules, we will follow them.”

\--

“You know it isn’t true, right?” Jon said into the quiet room illuminated only by few candles.

“What is not true?” Sansa asked with her head on his shoulder, her right hand laid over his chest.

“What you said earlier today. You are not emotionless, heartless bitch.”

Small laugh escaped her lips and she propped herself on her elbow to face Jon.

“I am, to the lords and people,” she smiled, “and it is okay. I want it that way.”

“Why would you want that?” Jon frowned, he was genuinely confused, “Father always said that being good lord means to show your people that you care for them.”

“He was right. I care for them, I listen to them and I answer their problems and worries. They see that Lady of Winterfell cares for them from my actions but they will not see it from my face.”

“Why?”

“You are a warrior, Jon. When you see crackles in your foe’s armor or defense, what do you do?”

“I use them against him,” he shrugged his shoulders like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, you use them. I might not be a warrior, but I am a fighter. I do not fight with sword like you or Arya, I fight with my brain. My brain is my weapon and my face is my armor. I can let anyone see what I think or feel because they could use it against me. I will not make that mistake again.”

“You let it slip in front of me. Does that mean you trust me?” he asked in small voice like he was not sure. Sansa smiled at him and nodded.

“I do. More than anyone in this world. So you better not betray me or I will have you balls for that,” she stabbed finger into his chest.

“I don’t doubt you will,” he chuckled, “I will never betray you, I swear it on father’s and Robb’s memory.”

“Good.” Sansa laid her head back on his chest. For a while the room was quiet.

“Where did you learn that?”

“In the South. I told you I learned great deal from Cersei Lannister. And Tyrion, Margaery Tyrell and her grandmother Olenna. And Petyr Baelish.” Deep growl vibrated through Jon’s chest, she could feel in under her hand.

“I don’t like that man, I don’t trust him.”

“Good, you never should. He is dangerous, clever, ambitious and what is worse – patient. He thinks he can outsmart anyone, but he does not realize what he created. I am a slow learner it is true but I learn and one day I will end him.”

“If I don’t strangle him first,” Jon mumbled.

“You will not do such a thing. He is mine to deal with.”

“If that is your wish I will try, but I cannot promise anything. If I see him touch you in any way I will have his head.”

“I guess I cannot expect any different from the son of Eddard Stark. Sleep now. Bran wants to talk to you and to all of us tomorrow. He says it will change our lives.”

“I do not like the sound of that. But you are right, we should sleep. Good night, Sansa,” he kissed the top of her head.

“Good night, Jon,” she curled closer to him and brought the furs up to her neck closing her eyes.

\---

The moment Sansa woke up she knew something was wrong. She opened her eyes to see the weak winter sun illuminating her room, Ghost was lying by the door as always. Then she realized what the thing that set her off was. Jon was still lying behind her. His front pressed to her back, his body heat flooding through her, his head was buried in her hair. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, his left arm draped over her waist, holding her close. She could get use to this, she felt so safe and loved but something was wrong with this. He never stayed, whatever was wrong it was big.

“Jon?” she said quietly not wanting to scare him.

“Oh, you are awake. I’m sorry. I should leave now,” he jumped out of bed before she could say another word. He took his sword from the spot against the wall where he always left it for the night and run to the adjoined solar. By the time Sansa slipped in her shoes, put on her robe and stepped into the solar he already had his trousers and boots on and was dragging his tunic over his head.

“What is it Jon? What bothers you?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admitted when he put on his jerkin. Oh, Sansa thought, suddenly it made sense. Of course, he talks about his parents, his real parents. Bran told them the truth yesterday. Jon sat heavily on the chair by her table a put his head into his hands. He looked so insecure, like a lost puppy.

“Did you sleep at all?” Sansa asked him and run hand through his hair in shooting manner.

“No,” he shook his head, “I thought about it all night. That I …” his voice broke and in the next moment he jumped from the chair, took his cloak and sword and marched towards the door, “I have to go.”

“Jon!” he stopped when he heard her voice but didn’t turn to her. “Talk to me.”

“I am not your brother, Sansa, I am not his son,” he whispered. She could hear the pain in his voice, she could see it in his stance. He looked beaten, defeated. “That was all I knew my whole life and it was a lie. He is not my father and I don’t know how to deal with that. But I have to and I have to tell the lords, the sooner the better.” With that he opened the door and disappeared into the cold corridor not looking at her once.

“Jon,” she called after him but he didn’t answer. She wanted to run after him but knew that she could not. It would be very strange and suspicious if the Lady of Winterfell was chasing the King in the North through the castle only in her nightgown and robe. She will find him after she put on some clothes, she knew where he would go after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the long pause but my bachelor thesis is taking all my energy.

Sansa walked past the statues of her ancestors quietly, she knew she would find him at the end this corridor where Aunt Lyanna, father and Rickon were buried and where they let built Robb’s statue and memorial plate for her mother. She walked around the corner, he was kneeling in front of their father’s statue, his head down.

“All my life I was proud of being Ned Stark’s son, bastard one, yes, but son no less,” he spoke up when he heard her approaching. Somehow he could sense that it was Sansa standing there, not Arya, not Davos, but Sansa. She could tell from his voice that he was crying a while back. “And all my life I wanted to become someone, to prove him that I was worth of his affection and care that I was worth of the honor to call him father. I wanted him to be proud of me.”

“He would be proud of you,” she laid her right hand on his left shoulder and squeezed. He covered her hand with his bigger one and entwined their fingers.

“It is nice of you to say it.” Sansa knew he thought she said it just to make him feel better. But she meant it, she will have to persuade him that she did. She crouched down to his level not caring about the dust and dirt that she will get on her dress and cloak, she was pass that.

“Do you know who I saw that day I reached Castle Black?”

Jon turned his head to her and shrugged his shoulders. “Me? Your bastard brother?”

“No,” she shook her head and looked into his grey eyes, “for a moment I saw father. You were standing there tall, wide shoulders, proud stance of a leader in your black leather jerkin and all I saw was him. And I thought ‘It is not possible, you saw him die, you idiot. You saw his head on the battle settlements of the Red Keep.’ But yet for a moment he was there.”

“You were there when they executed him?” Jon stole a glance at the statue in front of them. He knew Sansa was at the King’s Landing that time, but he never thought they made her watch.

“Yes,” the memories flashed shortly in front of her eyes, “I begged and cried but it didn’t move Joffrey at all. He even made me look at his head.”

Jon jumped up in anger almost knocking her down to the ground, clenching his hands in fists. “If I only could get my hands on that prick,” his knuckles cracked as he left the threat unsaid.

“That is the one of the least terrible thing he did to me. Don’t worry about that, his cruelty strengthened me. My skin turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. There is nothing men like him or Ramsey could do to me that I didn’t see before.”

“Still you shouldn’t experience that, you deserved – you still deserve – better,” his voice was still clouded with anger and he was looking somewhere above her head.

“See, that is what I am talking about. You are kind like him. And loyal, honorable and righteous. Like that time you not only let Alys Karstark and Ned Umber live but also let them keep their holdfasts. That is something he would do. You still do not believe me, do you?” she could see the incredulous look on his face. “Do you know why mother hated you so much?”

“Because I was walking, talking reminder that her husband was unfaithful to her? Because raising bastard alongside her lawful children was great insult to her honor?” he shrugged his shoulders.

“At first I guess, but the real reason was that you reminded her of him. Stark look and temper, you admired him and took over his view of the world. She gave father five northern children but only one Stark in look and mind, and that is Arya. You were father’s perfect copy, not Bran, not Rickon, not even Robb, YOU. That was the core of her hatred.”

“Why do you think he never told her?”

“That is easy. She would love you, if she knew you were her nephew she would embrace you into her family without a second thought. And that would be highly suspicious when father claimed that you were his bastard.”

Jon made few steps to the left a looked into Lyanna’s – his mother’s – face. The statue was still the same, cold grey stone that held image of beautiful young woman, stone direwolf sitting on his haunches by her side. But it meant something different for him now. Before Bran’s revelation he came down here to stand in front of father’s and Robb’s statue, now he found himself being drawn to this cold stone that represented the mother he never had.

“He lied. For so many years he lied for me, for her. He took that secret to the grave.”

“She wanted him to take care of you. Wouldn’t you do the same for Arya?” Sansa asked quietly still standing in front of her father’s grave.

“I would. It’s just that I am confused. What does this revelation makes me? A dragon or a wolf? All my life I wanted to be Jon Stark, that was my deepest desire, my biggest wish. But then I realized that I didn’t need to have that name to live and die like one. When Stannis Baratheon offered to legitimize me I refused,” Jon admitted and turned his head to her.

That revelation surprised her, she didn’t knew that Stannis offered him such thing. Why he didn’t go with it? It was all he ever wanted, he just said it.

“Why did you refused it?”

“I was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and that was my place, I made peace with myself. I was even proud to be the Bastard Wolf. And here I am, back in the square one. Asking myself – who am I?”

“I asked myself that question too. Who am I? And I realized that for some people that varies through their lives. Some people are the same for their whole lives, some change. I was born a trout,” she stole quick glance towards her mother’s memorial plate, “but I realized slowly that if I wanted to survive and save what was left of my family I have to become something else. I had to grow fangs and claws. I wasn’t born a wolf I became one. I think you are one of those who don’t change too much. You know who you are, Rhaegar can’t change that. You may should carry his name, but in your heart and mind you’re a Stark. As you always were.”

For a long while the crypts were quiet and steady, only the fire from the candles dancing in the air and throwing big shadows on the ancient walls. Jon was looking at his gloved hands. She could saw on his face that her words started to settle.

“Do you remember what father used to say?” he finally voiced his thoughts. “Dead speak no words, yet they are the most honest people in this world.”

“I never heard him say it.”

“Really? He told me all the time. I never understood what he meant by that, until we returned home and I started coming down here,” he looked around the crypts, “I remember father used to go down here to think, looking for answers. It seems unreal but I got my answers here. I stand before father’s and Robb’s statue and somehow I know what they would tell me.”

“I know what you mean. You can almost hear them whisper.” Sansa made few steps to the side standing right in front of her brother’s statue. Robb was not buried there, but after they retook Winterfell they decided that he should have statue in the crypts, like every Lord of Winterfell before him. She looked into her brother’s face that didn’t look exactly as she remembered but it was close enough, Grey Wind standing tall next to him. The memorial plate on the pedestal saying:  
_Robb Stark born in 281 AL as eldest son and child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. Slaughtered in 300 AL at the Red Wedding alongside his pregnant wife Talisa Maegyr and direwolf Grey Wind._  


“But not now.” She returned her attention back to Jon. “I cannot get any answers. I was here since I left your chambers today and I got no answers. All I hear are father’s words – the truth lies with the dead, remember it, Jon – that is what he used to say to me. The truth lies with the dead, all over again. But I have no idea what he is trying to say. I guess I will never know.”

Sansa went to him past her father’s statue. He draw out his sword, kneeled and bowed his head in front of Lyanna’s statue as a sign of respect.

“I am sorry that you died because of me,” he whispered and Sansa laid her hand on his shoulder. Jon raised his head a little, looking right between the stone direwolf’s front legs. In the dim light of the candles he saw something but wasn’t really sure what it was.

“Do you see it too?” Sansa bent over to look at the place he was pointing to. “Over here, it looks like – “

“Letters. J and S. Jon Snow.”

“The truth lies with the dead.” Suddenly it made sense. “Do you think … do you think he left me something here?”

“Wouldn’t it make perfect sense? If father wanted to hide something this would be safest place in the North. Only Starks are allowed down here and the crypts were here hundreds of years before us and they will be here after we are long gone. It would also explain why father let built statue for Lyanna, she should not have one. Only Kings in the North or the Lords of Winterfell have them. Not their wives, siblings or children, unless they ruled the North. But he let built statue for her.”

“Let’s look around.”

They went around Lyanna’s statue, each of them from one side, looking for anything out of the place.

“Jon, I think I found something,” Sansa crouched down to take a better look at the back side of the pedestal and brushed her hand over the object that was standing out of it. It was … “A direwolf’s head, our sigil.”

“Here is something too,” Jon tried to cram his body between the statue and the sarcophagus from the other side. “Three headed dragon.”

“But the sigil is wrong, the wolf is facing up when he should be facing right. Is the dragon – “

“Aye, it is wrong too, he should be facing left. They should be looking at each other,” Jon realized, “let’s try to move it.”

After a little while of trying, the stone medallions with the sigils finally gave in and once they were in the right place, faint click echoed through the corridor. In the next moment Jon had to catch the stone that until recently was making the back side of the pedestal and save it from breaking by hitting the ground. He leaned the heavy stone against the sarcophagus. Sansa hurried to the nearest wall for a torch and came back just when Jon brought a big oak chest out of the depths of the statue. The dim yellow light danced across the old wood and the carvings on the top. There was a picture of a dragon and wolf entwined, of baby dragon on wolf’s back followed by a picture of baby dragon playing with two wolf pups and a scene of a wolf with dragon wings surrounded by two wolves and three pups with a big wolf watching from distance. Jon ran his hand over the skillfully made carvings.

“That is me,” he whispered, almost like he was afraid someone could hear them, “the little dragon, that is me. And this must be you and Robb,” he pointed to the scene where the dragon was playing with two wolf pups.

“Are you going to open it?” Sansa asked and he looked at her. Was it fear in his eyes? It had to be terrifying to find out that your whole life was built on a lie, it had to be terrifying to find out the truth. Jon took a deep breath and open the lid of the chest. White fabric with embodied blue roses and folded list of paper on top of it was the first thing that they saw. Jon frowned and unfolded the paper.

“It is father’s writing,” he stated, “Jon, everything in this chest has a value, either in sentiment or gold and all of these items along with letters from me, Lyanna and Rhaegar and testimony of Howland Reed would serve as evidences about your true parentage.”

While Jon was reading the short message, Sansa touched the fabric. She knew what it was immediately.

“Why he would left me some kind of fabric?”

“Some kind of … Jon this is not some kind of fabric, this is the purest Dornish silk. With winter roses on it,” she emphasized the words ‘winter roses’ but from his frown she could tell that didn’t help him very much. “This was your mother’s wedding veil.”

“Oh,” he touched it gently almost like he was afraid it would disappear. He took it out of the chest to get better look but when he saw what was lying underneath it he passed the veil to Sansa without a word. Black metal shone in the light of the torch, rubies shimmering like a fire. There was maybe about half of the red stones still in place but even then he could make out the shape of three-headed dragon.

“Oh my Gods,” Sansa said when he realized what was hiding under the veil, “is that –“

“Rhaegar’s chest plate, the one he wore at the Battle of Trident,” Jon confirmed with a sure voice, “I always thought it sank down to the bottom of the river with Rhaegar.”

“Are you sure it is real? Maybe it is just replica.” Jon took the veil from Sansa’s left hand and put it on her lap. He took her hand into his and led it to the long and deep cut in the middle of the plate.

“Can you feel it?” he asked and she knew what he meant, the smooth black metal under her hand was torn just like it was only a fabric, its sharp edges curving to the inside of the plate. “It is real, this is the hole Robert Baratheon put in it with his war hammer. This is the blow that ended Rhaegar’s life.” Jon took the chest plate from the box and laid it on the ground. Underneath it, on the bottom of the chest were two smaller boxes. He took out the smaller of the two and opened it. Letters were hidden inside.

“This one is from father, this from Lyanna and this from Rhaegar,” Jon said when he opened them and quickly scanned them. Sansa opened few of the other letters. “What is the rest?”

“They are … I think they are love letters. Letters that Lyanna and Rhaegar sent to each other,” Sansa explained and put them back into the box feeling like she was invading their privacy. Jon took out the last box and opened the lid. Inside on the scarlet damask were lying a crown and a tiara. He took the crown out to look at it better. The steel band with rubies forged into it shone in the light of the torch Sansa was holding.

“This must be Rhaegar’s crown. I always believed it to be lost. People were looking for it but he didn’t had it at the Trident, it wasn’t in his camp nor in King’s Landing. Was it here all the time?”

“It looks like it was,” Sansa replied but her eyes were drawn to the tiara. Three steel longsword-shaped-like objects were forged into the narrow and elegant steel band. The middle longsword was longer than the other two and there were two rubies, one on each side. “This must be Lyanna’s crown.”

“What? How did you figured it out?”

“I know how Elia Martell’s crown looked like, it was dornish style with rubies and sun emblems. This looks like female version of the Winter Crown minus the rubies. The crown of the old Kings in the North had these kind of objects on it. Some say it reminds them of longswords, for some they are icicles, for other wolf’s fangs or claws. One way or another they represent House Stark. This belonged to Lyanna.”

\---------------------

Arya was looking around the small but comfy room, she could make out the look of it even in the dim light of the two candles on a table. There was a tall wardrobe across from the bed and a shelf next to it. Gendry’s cloak hanged on the door leading to the closed part of the forge. There was the table and two benches in the middle of the room. Behind it on the other side of the room stood big stone furnace serving both for cooking and warmth, low bench with furs and larder standing next to it. Most of the kitchen utensils hanged on the walls or stored on the shelf. There were another door right across the first one, only this were leading outside of the house where most of the wood was stored. It was obvious that only man lived here, there was no feminine touch to that room save for the curtains on the windows and the tablecloth that stayed there after the previous smith. The room was simple but comfortable.

“You are afraid of my siblings, aren’t you? Is it that why you do not want to have sex with me?” Arya asked quietly, her head resting on Gendry’s shoulder and her fingers dancing over his naked chest.

“What are you talking about? We had sex, like ten minutes ago. You were there, right?” he wrapped his right hand around her small waist, bringing her closer.  


“Of course I was, but you know what I mean. You do not want to have penetrative sex with me. Why?”

Gendry sighed. “Because I can’t. Not that I don’t want to, I do very much, but I can’t. I can’t disgrace you and your family by taking your maidenhood, or worse, burdening you with a bastard, which will ruin your life.”

“Gendry …” Arya leaned on her elbow so she could look into his face.

“That is just how it is,” he run his left hand through his hair, “You are a lady, I am a bastard, I know my place. You may not see it that way now but one day you will marry some lord and you will be glad that we didn’t do it.”

“I will never marry,” she stated firmly.

“You will,” he chuckled sadly, “and it is okay. That is how it is supposed to be. I belong in the forge not in your marital bed. This,” Gendry tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and then touched her lips with his thumb, “are just stolen moments which I will cherish and that will fuel me for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t understand. I will not marry unless it is you standing at the end of the aisle,” with that she laid back on his chest and brought the furs tighter to her in order to not get cold. So stubborn and she was calling him a bull-head.

The small dark room was quiet. Just when he thought that Arya was already asleep he got the courage to ask something that he was thinking about for a long time.

“May I ask you something?”

“Hmmm,” she mumbled.

“Before, you said that you saw your brother’s body. You were there when they killed him?”

“The Hound and I reached the Twins shortly after the massacre started. My brother’s soldiers were getting slaughtered all around us, my family and Robb’s bannermen who didn’t betray him were already dead. Do you know what they did to him?” suddenly her voice seemed small, it was like she was the little girl he once knew again.

“No, only heard about his death.”

“They sewed head of his direwolf on his decapitated body and paraded him around, mocking him,” she whispered quietly.

“I am sorry,” he brought her closer, making her to bury her nose into his neck. He noticed over the days that she kept smelling him whenever she could. He thought she drew comfort from it, so why deny her. “I shouldn’t ask and you certainly should not witness it.”

“It is okay, it helped me remember who the real enemy is.”

“Still you were a child. I didn’t know your brother but I am sure he didn’t deserved such cruelty.”

“You see, in a way I am proud that my brother inspired such cruelty because it means they feared him. They feared him so much that killing him was not enough. In order to get rid of that fear they had to disgrace his body and humiliate him. Not only the North but the whole Westeros will remember what they did to defeat the King in the North. He was unstoppable on the field, they had to strip him of his sword and pour wine down his throat to be able to kill him. On a wedding feast, like cowards. They will remember that Robb Stark had two arrows in him and was still able to stand, that it was a dagger of a traitor to his heart that ended his life.”

“And they will remember that it was his little assassin sister that avenged him,” he kissed the top of her head.

\-------------

“Found anything interesting?” Sansa said when she stepped into the solar from the corridor, she closed the door behind her and scratched Ghost behind the ears. Jon was sitting by the table, his cloak thrown over the second chair.

“Actually I did. Everyone believes that Rhaegar cheated on Elia, right?” Jon raised his head from the letter he was reading to look at his sister – cousin, right.

“Yes,” Sansa nodded and started to take of her own cloak.

“Well this is from Rhaegar’s letter. Listen to this,” Jon cleared his throat and started reading.

_Me and Elia, we like each other, there is friendship, respect and understatement between us. But I always knew she was feeling miserable in the capital. She hates the city, King’s Landing was always too much for her, too loud, too crowded, too smelly. After visiting Sunspear who could blame her. She always felt unsafe in the city, she felt like she was suffocating behind the battle settlements of the Red Keep. I know she misses the open fields, water gardens and blooming flowers of her homeland. My father hates her and our children and is not subtle about his feelings. When I met your mother and fell for her immediately we talked about it and decided that there was no need for both of us to suffer for our whole lives. And after all Elia was in love too and I wasn’t the object of it. The decision to part our ways was mutual. We agreed that Elia would return to Dorne where she could take her handmaiden Myria Sand as her paramour without anyone questioning it and where she would be under the protection of her brothers Princes Doran and Oberyn. Elia could not bear the idea being separated from the children, so naturally they will go with her. And because I do not want my children to be bastards I talked with the High Septon and from now on Rhaenys and Aegon will carry the name Martell. I am sure that they will bring great honor to their mother’s house and that their Valyrian names will help them remember who their father is and that he loves them. If my calculations are correct they should be on their way to Sunspear right now._

“Apparently they never left King’s Landing and he never knew,” Jon said.

“The Mad King would never let them go, he should realize that. Too bad that Oberyn never knew that Elia wanted the divorce and wanted to go home. Not that it would stop him from hating the Lannisters thou. After all the Mountain they killed her and her children on Tywin Lannister’s orders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three notes on this:  
> 1\. I know that in Game of Thrones world princes and princesses do not wear a crown but considering that this world is built on medieval Europe where they wore at least less fancy crowns and tiaras that king and queen ... and I like that idea, so get over it :D
> 
> Lyanna's crown - http://www.imagebam.com/image/adf841650062993
> 
> 2\. I can't help myself but to think that not only that Elia knew about that "divorce" but that she even agreed to it. Otherwise why would Lyanna and Rhaegar hide in Dorne? Why not go to Dragonstone or Essos? If he really cheated on Elia why they would go hide in her homeland where everyone will recognize the silver-haired prince and the woman with pale skin that definitely didn't belong there.
> 
> 3\. And about the Elia/Rhaegar relationship - what I described above would be considered very successful arranged marriage back then. But because modern world is oriented on the love marriages, and no author can divide themself from their time completely, also George R.R. Martin tells the story from the modern perspective and thus love is the most important part of the marriage.


	5. Chapter 5

“That means you lied to us this whole time,” Lord Glover ended the silence that consumed the whole hall after the revelation.  
  
“I lied to YOU?” Jon said in disbelief and raised his voice, “I lied to YOU?! I am the one who should complain, MY life was built on a lie, Lord Glover, mine not yours.” Jon felt Sansa reach for his hand and he squeezed it, probably more then he should. But if it hurt her, she had not let it know. “I found out few days ago and I told you as soon as I was able to say it out loud even when I was advised to do otherwise. I told you because I believe in honesty and because you deserve to know the truth.”  
  
“And we are grateful for you honesty, your Grace,” Lyanna Mormont send a smile his way before she threw a nasty look at Lord Glover. Sansa admired that girl, she was so young and yet she was fearless and ruthless, always saying what was on her mind. She envied her.  
  
“It doesn’t change the fact that you are not a Northman,” Lord Manderly raised from his seat and the whole room looked at him in disbelief. Jon squeezed Sansa’s hand so painfully that she knew that this was not a clever thing to say. She knew that Jon could take any form of insult but not this. In the very moment he let go of her hand low, deep growl filled the quiet room. At first she thought that it was Ghost’s doing but then she realized it was coming from Jon’s chest.  
  
For the first time since she came back Arya saw emotions on her sister’s face except for the time she greeted her. Sansa turned her head to Jon and her eyes were filled with shock. How intimidating he was, her brother, when he rose from his seat and laid his fists on the table before him with a loud thud.  
  
There was the wolf, Sansa thought, after this time they would know better than to anger the wolf.  
  
“I am not a Northman to you, my lord?” Sansa never heard him say anything with such a venom in his voice and the words ‘my lord’ were dripping with it. “I was born in the south, yes, but I was raised here. I spent my whole life in the North and until recently I never set foot outside of the North. I went norther than all of you combined, I was beyond the Wall. I killed White Walkers, I killed Wildlings and even brothers of the Night’s Watch when the duty commanded it. With this very sword,” he drew Longclaw from its scabbard. Lord Manderly flinched at that move, but Jon only laid the sword on the table. “Just like any of you I fought for the North, I bled for the North and unlike any of you I even died for the North. So if you do not wish to cross swords with me, do not tell me that I am not a Northman. EVER AGAIN.”  
  
“Attacking King’s honor is a treason, my lord, I am sure you are aware of that,” Sansa said coldly. Lord Manderly looked at her and then at Jon. He paled when he realized his mistake in the big scale.  
  
“Forgive me, your Grace, what I wanted to say was …”  
  
“Do say no more, my lord. The matter has been settled.” Lord Manderly looked really shaken when he sat back on the bench. Sansa once knew a king that would have him executed this very moment. It was like she almost could hear Jon’s response to her thought – I do not wish to be _that_ king.  
  
“I understand your concerns. I understand your fear that with a Targaryen name and the Dragon Queen on the Iron throne I might not be able to fulfill and hold the vision we want to see become reality, Robb Stark’s vision – united and independent North. As we already established I am a Northman and we are proud and loyal to our own. I know about a person who is perfect to be my successor. Person you should choose in the first place, someone that has the abilities and also the right name. The Daughter of Winterfell, the Fire Wolf, Sansa Stark.” Jon turned to her and smiled. The hall was suddenly filled with whispers. Jon extended his left hand and when she found his sincere and smiling eyes she knew he was really okay with this. In that moment she loved him even more that before. Only one man would be willing to lose the throne in her favor. She took his hand and stood up. She looked over the hall, the lords were whispering, debating among themselves. She found face of Petyr Baelish among them, smiling face. Of course he smiles, he thinks he has her where he wanted her. She will wipe that smile of his face.  
  
“Jon is right, we are proud and we are loyal to our own,” she said loudly and the room silenced once more, all of the lords looking at her. Jon let go of her hand and sat down. She knew he wanted this for her, he thought he stole it from her. But she would not stole it from him, he was good at ruling even though he doesn’t want to hear it. “And that means we are loyal to the King in the North we choose. You all say that you loved or at least respected my father. There is a man who is just like him in everything he does, even in his looks. Yet you refuse to follow him and because of what? That he was fathered by Rhaegar Targaryen? Man he didn’t even met, much less knew. Yes, Rhaegar gave him life but my father gave him home, love and taught him everything he knows. He is a wolf, he may have dragon blood but he was raised like a wolf. And he behaves like one. Sometimes literally as you could see today.”  
  
“Lady Sansa speaks truly,” little Lyanna stood up and looked around the hall, “I am a Mormont, not because my father was one but because my mother was. I don’t know who my father was, my mother never even told me his name. As far as I know he could be a lord, a commoner, maybe warrior or fisherman, he could even be one of the Free Folk. I don’t know, but I don’t care. I am a Mormont because my mother raised me like one. If we simply follow that logic then Jon Snow, or whatever his real name is, is a Stark. His father might be Rhaegar Targaryen, but the Last Dragon was lying beneath the ground when he was born, Ned Stark wasn’t,” she went silent for a moment and then turned to Sansa, “I mean no disrespect to you Lady Stark, I think that you are very competent and caring ruler and I do not doubt that you do awesome job as Lady of Winterfell. But I cannot support your claim because Jon is still the King in the North and that would be treason even if he suggests we should do it. I will say what I said few months ago, I do not care if he is a bastard or a Targaryen, it does not matter to me. Ned Stark’s blood runs through his veins one way or another.”  
  
Sansa nodded and smiled at her. She knew she could rely on the Little Bear. She got him on the throne the first time, she will keep him there.  
  
“My grandfather rode off south with Robb Stark and never returned,” young red head raised from her seat. Alys Karstark, the girl Jon granted not only life but also her home even after the Karstarks betrayed him. Her right hand was holding the pommel of her sword firmly, her knuckles were white, but her voice was strong. “Out of grief over my uncles’ deaths he made a foolish mistake and he knew what the prize for killing outside of the battlefield was, even if he didn’t believe that Robb Stark would do it. He made his decision, so did my father and they paid for it. And now I am making decisions on my own. My grandfather always used to say that Eddard Stark was honorable and righteous man that was worth to follow. I do not know if that was true, I’ve never met him. But I’ve met you,” she turned her face to Jon, “and all I see is a that man my grandfather used to talk about with such respect. And that man I will follow.”  
  
“So will I,” little Ned Umber rose from his seat. After that it was quick and easy. Howland Reed, Rodrik Ryswell, Torren Whitehill, Ryon Forrester, Cley Cerwyn and lords Glenmore and Flint pledged their alliances to Jon once more. Just like the ladies Barbrey Dustin, Eddara Tallhart and Berena Hornwood. At the end even Wyman Manderley and Robett Glover had renewed their oaths. The North and her family was safe, Sansa thought, at least for a while.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Season 7 if you squint. More in the notes at the end of the chapter.

The wind was howling outside the castle walls, wet snow failing endlessly from the dark clouds. Sansa left the unfinished cloak she was making for Arya in the armchair by the fire and crossed the room to her bed. She slipped under the furs, reached for her hairbrush on the nightstand and started brushing her hair. Jon was standing by the window for almost two hours now, not moving, not talking, just looking out into the distance. She let him be at first but now she wondered if he was going to stand there the whole night.

“Jon?” he jumped driven out of his thoughts, almost like he forgot she was also in the room.

“Yes?” he turned around to face her.

“You are afraid,” she said, not asking or judging. She was stating the obvious, his behavior in the last few hours and his posture were screaming it.

“No,” he sighed, “I am terrified.”

“Of what? The White Walkers?”

“No, I am not afraid of death, after all it will come for all of us one day and I’ve been there. Death is peaceful. If I fail I will not have to see the winter devour all mankind in this land. There is no need to be afraid if you know your enemy. I know White Walkers, I know what they want, how they fight, I know how to kill them. No, I am afraid of the unknown,” he said and looked out of the window, just as bright lighting cut the sky. _How convenient while having this conversation_ , Jon thought.

\------------------

“I have to kill him,” Daenerys said looking out of a window at Dragonstone just as the dimly lit room was lightened by the big lightning above the Narrow Sea. The warm breeze from the south brought taste of salt and upcoming rainstorm.

“What? Why?” Tyrion looked up from the letter confused.

“He is going to take my throne,” Daenerys said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Were we reading different letters? Jon explicitly writes that he has no interest in the Iron Throne and he will renounce any claim officially if you wish so.”

“He is lying. People lie,” she started pacing around the room, “I cannot lose the throne, it is all I’ve been left. I lost Drogo and Rhaego. My dragons and the Iron Throne is all I have. How can we know that he is not gathering an army as we speak?”

“Because it is Jon Snow – or whatever his name is – we speak of. What he says he means. I even think he is not capable of telling lies,” Tyrion put the letter with direwolf sigil back on the table and reached for his cup, ”He is even worse than his father and let me tell you – Eddard Stark was the most honorable man in history of Westeros.”

“If Jon is really my nephew then he lied to everyone for decades,” Daenerys pointed out.

“He did, because Ned Stark’s honor and unhealthy need for justice could be overcome only by love for his family, for his beloved sister. I see that now. Yet you can believe me that Jon is not trying to overthrow you.”

“How can you be so sure?” Daenerys sat down by the table and massaged her temples.

“Because whether you like it or not, Jon is a Stark. And Starks were always different, just like the rest of the North.”

“What is so special about the North?” the silver-haired woman threw her hands in the air in frustration.

“There is something you have to understand about the North and people who live there, even if you are not going to rule them. They have always been different than the rest of Westeros. It is even believed that you can never fully understand the North unless you lived there for most of your life. And even then, many of those who were not born there but lived there for decades, still don’t really understand what is going through their heads. The most important thing about the North –apart from their complete supply independence – is that they are proud and loyal to their own. And they never forget.”

 _The North remembers_ , she heard that phase once or twice before, but never thought about it. She watched Tyrion rolling the wooden direwolf head, which was normally used in battle plans, in his hands.

“They will not accept southern ruler, not again, not after what happened in last few decades. They have never forgotten the humiliation Torrhen Stark suffered from the hands of Aegon the Conqueror at the Field of Fire. They remember that your father roasted Rickard Stark alive and let his son Brandon strangle himself to death while trying to help him. They’ve had enough, they will not let another southern king or queen to command them again.” Tyrion rose from his seat and went around the map table until he stood on the farthest side of it, looking at the castle that represented Winterfell and put the wooden wolf head next to it.

“Especially not after the symbol of everything they hold dear was executed for betrayal by my reckless nephew and after their last hope for independence under the Stark name was butchered at a wedding.”

“Robb Stark was betrayed by his own,” Daenerys objected.

“It was supposed to look like that, yes. But it was orchestrated by my father and everyone knows that. He could not beat the Young Wolf on the battlefield so he opted for a different route that Starks would never think of, because – again – they value honor so much. And killing someone on a wedding feast is far from honorable.”

\------------------------------------

Jon was sitting with the lords in the hall, discussing the battle plans for the upcoming Great War when the door to the room opened and Sansa marched through them.

“Sansa, what –“ Jon started walking towards her.

“I apologize for interrupting you, your Grace, my ladies, my lords,” she looked around the room, “but this is very pressing matter. Jon,” she lowered her voice so no one but Jon could hear her, “she is here. The Dragon Queen is here.”

Jon’s eyes widened with fear and he gulped heavily. She was here and she could wipe them out from the world’s surface with one word. What was he going to do now? Why did she came? Was she angry? Would he be able to save his people? Sansa, Arya, Bran?

“The guards saw Targaryen banner on the top of the hill. She will be here any minute now.”

“How?”

“On horseback.”

“No dragons?” Jon frowned.

“No dragons,” Sansa shook her head. That was a good sign. No dragons meant no fire and no death in them.

“Who came with her?”

“They saw woman with long silver hair, a dwarf, three dark skinned men with long hair and a man in middle age. I assume Lord Tyrion, three Dothraki soldiers and some other man are accompanying her. I think she came in peace. She would not take Tyrion to battle.”

Jon hummed in agreement. He still doesn’t know why did she came but at least this revelations brought hope that it would not be a mortal meeting.

“I have to finish this. Could you …?”

“Of course. I will take them to my chambers.”

“I will be there soon.”

\-------------

Sansa marched across the yard, her grey cloak flying behind her, Ghost by her side and Ser Davos three steps behind her.

“Open up the gates! Let them in,” her voice carried strongly across the yard. Arya slipped down from the railing at Gendry’s forge and appeared by her sister’s side almost immediately, her hand on her sword.

“Who is it?”

“Daenerys Targaryen,” the redhead said just as the gate opened and the small group went inside. The first one was middle-aged man with short brown hair in unmarked leather jerkin and a heavy cloak, judging by his attire he was from the North, behind him rode Tyrion Lannister who was looking older than she remembered him and after him the queen herself. She was sitting tall and proud on her horse, her long silver hair braided back in complicated hairstyle, dressed in black pants and dress lined with fur and dark red cloak. She jumped from her horse with the same ease as the three Dothraki men behind her but also with elegance and grace of a queen. Sansa had to admit she was as beautiful as they said but with no doubt just as dangerous.

When she jumped from the horse she looked around the yard. She couldn’t see her nephew anywhere but that redhead standing across from her must be the sister he spoke of. She was wearing dark green dress with delicate gold embroidery and heavy grey cloak with wolf’s fur. She was beautiful, holding her head high, her stand was proud, it was obvious she would not let anyone intimidate her in her own home. Huge wolf as white as the snow lying around standing on her left side, barring his teeth. Smaller girl with dark brown hair, in the usual attire of a man of the North, was standing on her right side with a sword hanging from her belt.

Tyrion watched the starring match between two immensely strong and brave women. Ice and fire. One with fire in her hair but ice in her eyes and veins, the other burning with fire from inside but with her hair looking like she was kissed by ice. Two women that went from frightened girls to intimidating queens.

“My lady,” Lord Tyrion stepped forward, “allow me to introduce you to Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons. My name is Tyrion Lannister, this is Ser Jorah Mormont and these men are Aggo, Marro and Davrollo.”

“This is Lady Sansa of House Stark, lady of Winterfell and her sister Lady Arya Stark, the Red Wolf. I am Davos Seaworth, King’s advisor.”

“Welcome to Winterfell, your Grace, my lords. I hope you didn’t came across any difficulty during your journey.”

“The travel was good, thank you. I don’t see my nephew here, where is he?”

“We haven’t been expecting you thus the King is dealing with urgent state matters. He will join us as soon as possible. If you will follow me inside, you can warm up and refresh yourselves,” Sansa motioned behind her.

“Yes, we all could use a place by fire, thank you, my lady,” Tyrion nodded and smiled. Sansa turned around and lead the group towards the castle. Only Ser Jorah lingered by, for some reason hypnotizing the forge. Gendry was pretending to work on the axe for Tormund, yet he carefully watched the exchange outplaying only few feet in front of him.

“My lady,” Jorah addressed Arya, “do you know that man? The blacksmith?”

“Indeed I do. Why?” a wave of anger rose inside her, everything telling her to keep an eye on this man, to keep Gendry safe.

“Who is he? If I didn’t know better I would say that -”

“That he looks like the man that killed your Queen’s brother about twenty years ago? I think you know who he is. And I would advise you to not tell your Queen,” she stepped closer to him, hand on her sword, “after all, they do not call me Red Wolf for nothing. Ask Walder Frey,” with that she stepped aside and motioned for him to go inside the castle.

Jorah gulped, he heard what happened at the Twins, although no one was able to tell who killed Walder Frey and decimated the whole House, only that winter came for House Frey. Was it really Ned Stark’s youngest daughter? Jorah turned around after few steps, Arya was sitting at the railing going around the forge, her back to one of the columns, one of her legs swinging in the air. She was talking with the blacksmith. When she caught Jorah’s look she raised her eyebrow while she played with her dagger demonstratively.

\--------------

“It is good to see you again, my lady. I am glad you are alive and well,” Lord Tyrion said when he matched his steps with Sansa’s. Daenerys few steps behind them, listening carefully.

“It is good to see you too, my lord,” Sansa smiled a little.

“Time was more generous to you than to me. You are no longer the frightened little girl I knew.”

“Indeed I am not. Time may have been generous to me, but I assure you the fate was not.”

“As I’ve heard,” Sansa raised her eyebrow at him, “what? The news travel slowly in Essos, but they do travel. I’ve heard enough to be able to imagine the rough picture. But I knew you would endure.”

“How so?” she asked when she opened the door to her chambers and motioned for the party to step inside the room just as two serving girls were laying food and wine down on her table. “Leave us,” she waved her hand to the girls who bowed and hurried out of the room, “have a seat, please.”

“I have always said you would survive us all,” Tyrion said, poured wine to Daenerys, Sansa and himself and handed one of the cups to the redhead. ”Many people made the mistake to underestimate you, my lady.”

“They will not make that mistake again,” she rose the cup to her lips and stole a quick glance at the silver-haired woman who watched her with cautious eyes.

“No, they will not,” Tyrion smiled across the table at her, almost proudly. _I certainly will not_ , he thought. “Would you ever imagine we would meet again like this?”

“No, actually I never thought Cersei would let you go,” the redhead said and put the cup back on the table, took of her gloves and scratched Ghost, who was sitting beside her, behind his ears.

“Oh,” Tyrion chuckled, “she did not. My brother helped me escape.”

“Did he?” she raised her eyebrow in surprise.

“Yes, I do not envy him that position though.”

“I have always wondered, did you kill him?” she didn’t think he did, but she always had some doubts about this opinion.

“No, but sometimes I wish I did.”

“So do I.” Brief memory of herself and Joffrey standing on the battle settlements of the Red Keep when he made her look at her father’s head flashed before her eyes. She almost pushed him from the foot bridge. “Did they ever found out who did it? I know for certain that Lord Baelish had his say in it, but I don’t think he was really the one who did it. That wasn’t his style.”

“Littlefinger? Actually I am not that surprised. My bets were always on the Queen of Thorns.”

“Olenna Tyrell? Interesting. Makes perfect sense though. If I was her I would rather see Margaery marry Tommen than Joffrey. Even though in my opinion she should run for the hills screaming. One way or another, she ended up dead, unfortunately.”

\--------------

Jon went through the hall and with every step his heart was beating faster as he was coming closer to Sansa’s room. He knew this journey by heart, he could walk it in his sleep, yet now it was different. He saw two Dothraki soldiers standing outside Sansa’s room alongside with two of his own men. _They are like animals, like dogs or wolves, they can smell your fear, don’t let anything you feel show on your face_ , said Sansa’s voice in his head. He raised his head and nodded on the soldiers when he reached them. He opened the door and everyone inside the room turned to him. Daenerys and Tyrion were sitting on one side of the table with Jorah Mormont and another Dothraki man standing behind them, Sansa sat on the other side of the table with Davos behind her and Ghost curled into a ball by her feet.

“Nephew, you joined us at last,” Daenerys said just as he took of his cloak and laid it over one of the chairs and sat down next to Sansa.

“I had an urgent matter do deal with, your Grace. I will not drop everything just because you arrived. Allow me to remind you that I am not your vassal, we are equals.”

“Are we?” the silver-haired woman raised her eyebrow.

“Yes. The North is no longer part of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon reached for Sansa’s hand under the table. She squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“Because you say so?” Tyrion and Sansa both draw breaths at once like they wanted to intervene this discussion before it escalated, but Jon didn’t let them say anything.

“No, because the people say so. The North expressed their opinion about the Seven Kingdoms when they called my brother King in the North four years ago.”

“You mean your cousin.”

“No, Robb was my brother and best friend not matter what our actual relation is. He may not live long enough to bring independence to this land, but the people have spoken and I will do what he couldn’t.”

“Are you sure that is has nothing to do with your own ambitions?”

“My ambitions?” Jon chuckled, “I am the sword in the darkness, I am the watcher on the walls, I am the shield that guards the realms of men, for this night and all nights to come. Yes, I have been freed of my oath just as other brothers before me, but this part of the pledge stays with me. If the lords of the North decided that I should guard the realms of men from position of a king, then so be it. I serve the people. I have never asked for it, I never wanted it but I will do what the duty commands. Even if it is not what I would choose for myself.”

“What would you choose for yourself?”

 _Quiet, simple life with Sansa_ , Jon thought immediately. “That doesn’t matter, does it? I am not gonna get the quiet and simple life I would like because the lords chose for me and I will do my duty just as my father taught me.”

“Your father was my brother.”

“Yes, by blood. But I had a father, he had brown hair, grey eyes, kind heart, bad luck and his name was Eddard Stark.”

 _Proud and loyal to their own, just as Tyrion said_. Daenerys was looking at her nephew and the almost non-existent smirk that his cousin slash sister wore and was starting to understand. He was raised by wolves and among wolves. He won’t give up his legacy and why should he, she was not willing to give up her own. 

“So what you wrote is true? You have no desires in the Iron Throne?”

“You can trust me, I don’t want it. This is my home, I belong here, to my family and my people. Everyone knows that you can’t see wolves in the south, they don’t do well in the hot weather and Starks do not do well in the South. I grew up here, I am a Northman, my place is here.”

 

_“You really believe that even if given the opportunity to take the throne Jon would not do that?” Daenerys asked her advisor._

_“Yes. He may should carry your name but he is Stark in mind and heart. And Starks were never overly ambitious or power hungry, no, those are traits of Targaryens, Lannisters, Greyjoys or Tyrells, but not Starks,” Tyrion said. “Even though I could never understand why, Starks were always satisfied freezing their asses off in Winterfell in their Godswood with their hearth trees and old faith, drinking their bad beer and not getting involved in politics. They always reminded me of a wise grandfather of the family who is sitting quietly by the fireplace listening to the rest of us bickering about power and gold and from time to time reminding us that the winter is coming.”_

 

Daenerys returned from her little mind-trip and realized that they could come to an agreement. Jon didn’t want the Seven Kingdoms and she knew that she could not rule the North because they would not accept her.

“One way or another we are family and I thought that I had no family left. We need each other. I will give up North but you will support me when I take over the Iron Throne. We will be allies should someone try to attack Westeros.”

“With that I can agree. Does that mean that you will fight with us against the White Walkers?”

“Yes, we can help each other. You need my men, they will fight with you, my dragons and myself included.”

“What do you want in return?” Sansa asked cautiously.

“We all know that the best alliances are made with marriage.” Jon almost spitted out his wine when the Dragon Queen suggested that. Sansa felt her heart stop for few beats. _She will not take him from me_. She will make sure of that.

“Marriage?” Jon coughed, his voice higher than usually. Could he agree to this condition? Marry Daenerys when he could have Sansa? Would he be able to sacrifice so much for the North?

 “Yes, I have Greyjoys, Lannisters and the Sand Snakes on my side. But I need better starting position with Tullys and Arryns.”

“I am afraid I don’t understand,” Jon frowned, “I have nothing to do with Tullys and Arryns.”

“No, but I do,” Sansa said suddenly understanding.

“Wait? Whose marriage are we discussing?” he looked confused between the two women.

“Oh – you thought …” Daenerys lilaic eyes went wide with surprise. “No, should I marry again it would not be man of my own blood. I think there was enough of that in our lineage, I remember what Viserys was like, I do not wish that for my children, should I have some.”

“Then what exactly are we talking about?” Jon was utterly confused.

“Us, Jon. She talks about marriage between you and me,” Sansa looked at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just asume that some events that happened in Season 7 also happened here. Olenna Tyrell is dead, so is Littlefinger. Cersei had her revenge on Ellaria and Theon is trying to save Yara. But Jon have never bended the knee. They tried to ask Cersei to fight with pretty much the same outcome, which led to Jamie leaving, revealing her plan and Daenerys burning the Iron fleet and imprisoning Cersei.


	7. Chapter 7

“You are afraid,” Sansa stated when Jon laid his hands on the windowsill and bowed his head. “Is it the image of marriage that terrifies you or the image of marriage with me?”

“I just – “ he shook his head but didn’t look her way.

“It is me then. I understand, we tell the Dragon Queen that we cannot do this,” Sansa said, not letting out how much that hurt her and went to the door.

“What? Wait,” Jon turned around and crossed the room in three quick strides catching her by her wrist. “It is not you, I promise. It’s just … I never thought I would marry. That was never my fate, that was for Robb, or you or Arya. But not for me, not for the bastard.”

“Don’t, you know you are not,” the redhead started but was interrupted.

“But I was raised like one. You can let something like that go just because someone told you that it was a lie. I lived the lie, it was all I knew. And I never imagined myself having a wife or even a child of my blood. It is just so … so sudden. But you? You … you brought light to my world when I thought there was none left. Every man would be thrilled to have such beautiful, clever and strong wife as yourself,” he subconsciously licked his lips and stroked the back of her wrist with his thumb before he let go of her hand completely and made a step back. “But I am not enough for you. You deserve someone better, someone who is not as damaged as I am, someone who is not haunted by daggers and White Walkers in his dreams.”

“You want to compete in who is more damaged of the two of us?” Sansa threw her hands in the air, losing the stone cold image of a lady for a moment. “Ramsay is dead and his ghost still haunts me at night, I sent him to hell myself yet I still look behind me in the corridors when I walk them. You think I actually enjoy wearing dress covering me up to my neck?” She tugged on the collar of her dark green wool dress. Jon knew that she wasn’t wearing the dresses with long sleeves and high collars just because of the winter weather.

He remembered the nightgowns he saw drying in the yard when he was still a boy, they were white or light grey from light frilly material that he could swear had to be see-through. But those nightgowns Sansa wore to bed were made from comfortable but thick material in dark colors, blue or red. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she was hiding in those clothes, not only her body but especially her mind and heart.

“The scars he left on my body are bad but those he left on my soul and mind are even worse. I never thought I would be able to trust any man in my life ever again. Yet I trust you. Father once told me that one day he would find me a loyal and gentle man that would be worthy of me. What would he say if he knew he was here all the time, just a few feet away?”

“Sansa, I am not …” he made another step back but that only made her make step forward. She cornered him at her table, put her hand on his cheek and made him look at her.

“You really think I can choose? From my many suitors? No one would want to marry me. I was married twice, both times to traitors.”

“That wasn’t your decision,” Jon objected.

“I killed my husband,” she raised her eyebrow.

“He deserved that. Should you not did it, I would,” his jaw flexed with anger and his eyes darkened.

“You are too good. I don’t know where else I could find a man who would be able to forgive me everything I’ve done, who would be able to like me despite who I have become, despite everything I’ve lived through. Man who witnessed things many cannot image and yet it made him nothing but kind. Yes, we are both broken beyond repair, but we care for each other, I trust you and somehow we even match. I would be happy to marry you. The only question left here is – do you want me?”

“If you promise me you are not doing it out of duty or as a politic decision.”

“I am not,” Sansa smiled. Jon smiled too, took her head into his hands and kissed her forehead.

“Then I would marry you.”

\--------------------------

“What did you wanted to discuss? Does it have something to do with the Dragon Queen?” Arya asked when Davos closed the door behind them and she drove Bran in his wheelchair to the table where Sansa and Jon were sitting.

“You could say that. We talked and came to an agreement. She would officially give up her claim to the North and I will do the same with the Iron Throne. She will help us in the Great War and should we survive that we will remain allies.”

“Where’s the catch?” Arya raised her eyebrow, it sounded too good to be true.

“She suggested marriage.”

“Marriage?” the younger Stark repeated.

“Yes, she wants me to marry Sansa.”

“I see. What are you going to do?”

“We talked about it,” he looked at the red head sitting next to him, “and we came to a conclusion that we would not be opposed to that idea.”

“Then what is left here to discuss?” Arya shrugged her shoulders.

“We would like to know your opinion, of course.”

“You are King in the North and Sansa is Lady of Winterfell. You don’t need our permission.”

“No, but you are our family and we would like to have your support. Especially in our unique situation,” Sansa pointed out.

“Unique? You are cousins, seems quite normal to me.”

“But we were raised as siblings, doesn’t that bother you?” Jon frowned. He was not surprised that Bran hasn’t said anything yet, he was little weird now, but he thought Arya would be at least surprised.

“No, why should it? You are not marrying me, are you? Sansa will always be my sister and you will always be my brother, but that doesn’t mean it is the same for you. We all know that Sansa never considered you her brother while growing up and you never thought about her as your sister. I know that many things have changed since that time, believe me, I do, but what caught my attention immediately when I came back was that your relationship turned from nonexistent to very intimate.”

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked.

“Oh, please, are you forgetting that I am a trained assassin? Do you think I’m blind?” she exclaimed, “You two are too comfortable around each other. You think I don’t see how you seek each other company? How you,” she pointed at Jon, “look at Sansa every time you don’t know what to do or when you need confirmation that you are doing the right thing? How you lean into her touch and literally growl at anyone who dares to come close enough to her? And you,” she turns to Sansa leaving shaken Jon to his thoughts, “do you think I did not see that stares you are giving Jon when he trains? How you smile secretly when he does something clever and you are proud of him? How you hold hands under the table at the council meetings? How you glare at everyone who dares to look too long at him? If stares could kill, half of the women in the castle would be already dead. And that wordless communication thing, that is exactly what mother and father used to do. Do you think I don’t know that Jon haven’t slept in his own room for _months_?”

Jon gasped. He looked really shaken now, his mouth opened but he said nothing. His eyes shifted to Sansa looking at her for help.

“Arya – “ he started, but the redhead didn’t let him finish the sentence. She stood up from her chair and laid right hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in attempt to keep him calm.

“Think what you want but I am not ashamed,” she looked her sister in the eyes. “When I met Jon again he was the only family I had, the only family I thought I had been left. He became my companion, my friend, my protector. If it wasn’t for him I would probably be dead by now. He restored my faith in humanity. He is my sanctuary, my safe harbor, an anchor that grounds me to this world.” Jon looked up at her with surprise written all over his face. He never knew she felt like this about him. Yes, the talk they had before Arya and Bran arrived was enlightening, but he thought she agreed to marry him simply because he was the easiest and most convenient choice. “And I can assure you that what you are implying never happened.”

\--------------------------

After Arya and Bran left, Jon and Sansa returned to the adjoined solar where Daenerys, Tyrion and Ser Jorah were waiting.

“You discussed my proposal?” the silver-haired queen asked. Sansa noted that she was still wrapped in her traveling cloak, _another reason why she was not suited for the harsh northern life_ , Sansa thought.

“We did,” Jon nodded and pulled out a chair for Sansa, who took it with small smile. “What are your terms for your help with the White Walkers, aside the wedding of course?”

“Well I will renounce my claim to the North, if you will do the same with the Iron Throne. You will make sure that our family bonds will keep lords of the Vale and the Riverrun from rebelling against me. Especially since we all know who were Robert Baratheon’s closest allies in the rebellion against my father, which I don’t deny that he deserved. You will not encourage nor support any move against me, not now, not ever. Should I do something that would provoke such action, tell me and I will revoke my mistake. Do not act behind my back,” Daenerys said with firm voice.

“I can promise you, that should I find your rule anything but just I will let you know. If you promise me that it would not cost me my head,” Jon said and thought about Father. Loyalty and honesty cost him his head. He did not wish to follow his path, not when he has future ahead of him. 

The memory of Ice cutting through Father’s neck flashed before Sansa’s eyes and her stomach twisted in pain. _What was wrong with her?_ She did not thought about that in ages.

“I will listen and not hold you accountable, I promise. There is also one thing I would like to have settled sooner rather than later. Should I not be able to have heir of my own, I would like to appoint one of yours as my successor.”

“I believe that should not be a problem, I am sure woman as yourself would receive many marriage proposals,” Sansa noted.

“I am not worried about that, Lady Sansa. The problem is that I am not sure I could bound myself to anyone in marriage again, I am married after all.”

“Khal Drogo is dead,” Ser Jorah said quietly.

“Not for me, not really. With Daario I realized I simply consider him temporarily unavailable.” Sansa wondered what she meant by that, if he was dead, he was dead. She would have to ask Jon or Tyrion if they knew something more than her.

“You burned his body, Khaleesi, he is not coming back,” the Mormont man said slowly, like he was explaining it to five-year old.

“Ser Jorah is right. There isn’t anything that bounds you to that man,” Tyrion reached for her hand.

“My heart does,” her lilaic eyes were clouded with nostalgia as she absentmindedly touched her ornamented silver clasp that held her braid together. “But that is not my main worry. You see I cannot bear a child, at least I wasn’t able to since my little Rhaego.”

Sansa looked at Jon and they communicated without words. “We agree with your terms,” Jon said after a while, “but we still think that you should talk with a Maester about you condition.”

“I will, it is settled then,” she nodded and started to rise.

“We also have conditions of our own.”

“Oh, of course,” she said back and poured more wine, “go ahead then.”

“From now on the North is completely independent. The lands from the Neck up to the Wall, from the Widow’s Watch on the East to the Stormy Shore on the West are under the rule of the King or Queen in the North. The northern lords answer only to the King and the King himself only to the Gods. Should one of our children become your successor one day, it will not be the same child that will be heir of the North.”

“I agree.”

“We will be allies, after all we do not share only blood but most of all one continent. I would like to live in peace, I’ve had enough of war for lifetime. I would also suggest that we support trade between our kingdoms and other things people were used to.”

“That sounds very wise,” Tyrion said and Daenerys nodded.

“Secondly, Sansa will not carry Targaryen name after marriage.”

“I see no problem with that, many ladies from ancient houses keep their maiden names after marriage, like Elia Martell or Cersei Lannister did.”

“The thing is that neither will our children and neither will I,” Jon said firmly, his voice steady and calm.

“What? Why?” Sansa saw wave of anger rise in the Dragon Queen as her eyes darkened from lilaic to purple.

“I thought we already established that. I am not a Targaryen, never was and never will be. I am not a dragon, I am a Northman raised by wolves and with wolves. Nothing can change that. Yet I realize that I cannot carry the name I would like and I also cannot fully renounce your name.”

“What is it that you propose then?”

“Should we survive the winter, new era will come. With two kingdoms will come new rulers and new customs. I think our lands are ready for new normal along with a new House. House that would be combination of two ancient houses, of ice and fire, descendants of the First Men and blood of Old Valyria.” For a moment the room was quiet as Daenerys thought over Jon’s proposal and then she nodded.

“Do you already have a name of this House of yours?”

“I was thinking,” Jon looked at Sansa, “Stargaryen.”

“Doesn’t sound bad, it has a nice ring to it,” Tyrion smiled.

“And there is also one last thing.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Are you sure this is appropriate?”

“Appropriate?” Sansa laughed when she took off her robe and slipped under the furs in her dark blue nightgown. “Jon, you were sleeping in my bed for months. As my brother. I think that was more inappropriate then sleeping here as my betrothed.”

“You are right, as always,” he smiled, took off his cloak and sword and went to her wardrobe to fish out his night clothes hidden under her summer dress. When he returned from the adjoined solar where he changed his clothes Sansa had already untied her hair and was currently brushing them. The flood of red curls got his attention and his heart lightened when he realized that he was allowed to look. So look he did. He watched the light from the fire dance across them, shining like cooper. They looked so soft, he knew they were, he played with them at night when Sansa was asleep but now … Now he could reach out and touch them without his action being questioned …

“Jon?” she raised her blue eyes to him, “is something wrong?” _Blue as the clear northern sky, as the warm pond in the Godswood,_ Jon thought.

“What? No, no, nothing is wrong. I was just thinking…“ she was looking at him curiously, he lowered his gaze and whispered, “I was just thinking if I could brush your hair for you.”

There was a moment of silence, Jon shifted on his feet nervously. When he got enough courage he raised his head again only to find her looking at him with unmasked surprise.

“You would want that?”

“Only if you don’t mind,” he hurried with his answer.

“I would like that,” Sansa smiled at him and raised her hand with the brush. Jon’s eyes lightened and he hurried to sit on the bed behind her. Sansa was slightly afraid at first, after all the only people who brushed her hair were her mother and Shae and Jon had hands and nature of a warrior. But he was gentle so she relaxed into his touch. Long while passed before Jon broke the silence with a whisper.

“Kissed by fire.”

“What did you say?”

“The Free Folk believe that gingers are kissed by fire. At least Ygritte and Tormund say they do,” Jon explained.

“Ygritte,” she rolled that name on her tongue, “you loved her, didn’t you?”

“I did.” There was another silence interrupted only by the cracking fire.

“Have you ever thought about me like you used to think about her?” They could not see each other’s faces but Sansa felt him stiffen behind her and turned around. “Tell the truth, I would not be mad either way.”

“Yes,” he admitted in quiet whisper and his hand with the brush fell to the bed. He was looking away, ashamed of his confession. “Yes I did. I do.”

“Good,” his eyes found hers when she said that, “because I do too.”

“I always thought it was wrong and impossible.”

Sansa got on her knees and leaned closer to him. “Impossibility is kiss away from reality,” she whispered and pressed her lips to his. Jon was in shock for a moment but then he let go off the brush and placed his right hand on the side of her neck, bringing her closer. Sansa tangled her fingers into his dark brown hair, tugging at them slightly. Jon moaned quietly into her mouth, it sounded more like a wolf’s growl than a moan. Sansa wanted to hear more so she deepened the kiss.

“That was very different from what I’ve experienced,” Sansa said when they parted.

“Worse of better?”

“Oh, better, definitely better,” she smiled at him.

“Thank Gods,” Jon laughed.

\------------

“Your Grace, I …”

“No need to explain, Gendry. I have to admit at first I was little angry that you engaged in this relationship even after our talk back at the Craclaw Point, but then Sansa showed me an angle of this situation that was more likely to happen. That it was our sister that suggested and pursued it.”

“Jon, I swear, if you …” Arya started but Jon interrupted her.

“I have no intention to punish you, Gendry. Unless you know about an action that would call for a punishment,” Jon said in a stern voice and raised his eyebrow.

“If you are referring to what I think you do, your Grace, than I can assure you that did not happen.”

“Pff, you can bet on that,” Arya pouted quietly and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I could never disgrace Arya in that way. I care for her too much to do that to her.”

“You care for her enough to forget your own pleasure and deny yourself your desires?” Sansa spoke for the first time, her eyes narrowed with suspicion but her voice was underlined with genuine surprise.

“When you put it like that, m’lady, it sounds really honorable. I never thought about it like that. I just know where my place is and that I cannot burden Lady Stark and Princess in the North with a bastard.”

 _Gendry really is a good man,_ Sansa thought, rational and responsible and it looks like her really loves Arya.

“I have the feeling that you realize that this relationship cannot continue any further,” Jon said.

“I understand, your Grace,” the blacksmith bowed his head looking at his fidgeting hands in his lap.

“It is not your place to decide!” Arya jumped from her seat. And here it was, the snap Sansa was waiting for from the moment Gendry and Arya stepped over the threshold. “I am not a child anymore, you cannot decide for me.”

“Arya, I am your brother –“

“Are you now? The Jon I knew would never do this.”

“I am your king and your eldest and closest male relative, I am responsible for you. Like it or not I have the last word,” Jon clenched his jaw. He did not like it, but that is how the world works. Even though he knows both of his sisters are capable of taking care of themselves and make their own decisions, the world will always see them as little girls who have to be bossed around by their fathers, brothers and husbands.

“I survived without any of you for a long time, I can make my own decisions!”

“We know you can, but the lords and the North will never accept Gendry as your companion, much less a husband. In Dorne it could work, Oberyn Martell was example of that, but not here,” Sansa tried to reason.

“I don’t care about that, I never did.”

“Gendry, you seem responsible. What would you say if I told you that I found Arya a husband?”

“What?!” her voice went into unimaginable heights.

“I would say that it is very smart and understandable decision, your Grace. And that I only hope that that man is worthy of her.”

“Oh, he is,” the king nodded.

“Are you out of your mind?! I will not marry anyone, do you hear me? I will not marry!” Arya screamed. Sansa was sure that it had to be heard in the corridor.

“Not even Lord Baratheon?” Jon smirked.

“What?” Arya stopped her outburst suddenly confused, “Baratheons are dead.”

“Are they?” Jon passed Gendry rolled parchment with two dragon and one wolf sigils on it. “Go ahead, read it out loud please.”

Gendry unrolled it, took a deep breath and started reading.

“I, Jahaerys Targaryen, the King in the North, recognize Gendry Waters as son of Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of Seven Kingdoms who died in 298 AL.” Gendry stopped reading as he tried to process the words, he looked up to Jon and Sansa, who were smiling knowingly. Jon signaled to the smith that he should continue.

“Followed by death of both of his brothers, Renly and Stannis Baratheon, all of his legitimately recognized children and all of his illegitimate ones, that were killed on the order of Joffrey Baratheon and followed also by death of Stannis’ only daughter Shireen, Gendry Waters, from now on known as Gendry Baratheon, is considered to be the only known living person with Baratheon blood. That makes him the only and rightful heir to Storm’s End, the ancestral home of House Baratheon and seat from which they ruled Stormlands. This action was also recognized by Daenerys Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Lady of Seven Kingdoms and Khaleesi of the Great Green Sea. Signed by Jahaerys Targaryen and Daenerys Targaryen.”

\------------

Few hours before they should be wed, Jon walked to the crypts wanting to talk to Father and Robb. When he stood in front of Ned Stark’s statue, he sighed and looked into the stone face.

“Father, I have always known that you loved my mother, yet I never understood why you never talked about her. I thought that maybe you were ashamed of who she was, that maybe she was a whore or that maybe she died and that pained you. Now I know the truth,” he looked towards the beautiful stone woman standing in the shadowed alcove. “You were trying to protect me and keep your promise. Thank you for that.”

\------------

Sansa wanted a moment of peace from the whole wedding madness. The castle staff was following her around with questions about last wedding changes and seating arrangements for the feast. Arya was freaking out in Sansa’s chambers, pacing around and mumbling nonsense, meanwhile Gendry was trying to set a new record in forging a sword in the shortest time possible. His way of cooperating with nervousness was heard across the yard and also in the halls. Sansa thought she would go mad from that monotone iron sound.

When she stepped inside the hall leading to the crypts and closed the heavy wooden door that muted the noise from outside, she sighed in relief. She turned around the corner to the corridor where her parents and brothers were buried and saw Jon standing in front of her father’s grave.

“You taught me what love looked like, for that I would always be grateful to you. I hope that one day I would be able to show that to my own children and to Sansa. She deserves love.”

Sansa stopped in her tracks, she knew she shouldn’t listen what Jon considered a private confession, yet she couldn’t help herself. She hid behind Grandfather Rickard’s statue a listened closely.

“When we were children she was beautiful, there was no doubt in that, but she was naïve and dreamy. When we met again, she was woman grown, maybe even more beautiful than I remembered her, but there was something dark inside her. After the things she experienced her mind sharpened, her body strengthened and her heart hardened. For everyone she was strong-willed queen with ice in her veins, but for some reason she warmed up to me. Sooner than I knew I started falling for her.”

 _He was falling for her?_ She knew he liked her, she knew he desired her, he was only man after all, but she never thought he loved her, not this way anyway.

“I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me and I would be able to look into your face and not feel guilty. Sansa saved my life more than once and in many ways. She gave me reason to live again when I thought I didn’t have any. She is my advisor and my conscience, my heart tree. I am sorry I fell in love with my sister but I would never regret it, especially now when I know who we really are.”

Sansa’s heart swelled with this warm happy feeling she didn’t experienced since before she left Winterfell. _He really wanted her._ He was like the princes and knights from the stories and songs she loved so much as a child, only this time with dark twist called life.

\------------

“Brother,” his voice cracked for a moment, “I am sorry I wasn’t there. I always thought my place was by your side, for years I felt so guilty that I wasn’t there when you needed me. Circumstances held me away but another circumstances brought me back to our family and to the throne that was supposed to be yours. Maybe this was our fate after all and I promise you I will do my best to finish what you have started. North is free just like you wanted and Sansa and I will hold onto your vision. That brings me to another thing … I don’t know what you would say at this, but … I love Sansa. Unbelievable, right? After all she hated me. I knew she was smart and beautiful even back then, but Gods … she was so annoying,” he chuckled. “But when I hugged her at the Castle Black, everything was different, like that life and memories weren’t even our own. She got under my skin and no matter what I do, I can’t shake her, not that I want to. I hope you too can forgive me my weakness one day.”

He fell quiet and after a while he patted the tombstone and turned to leave. Slight breeze that came from the dark corridor that led further down into the ancient crypts ruffled the fur collar of his cloak. With the wind also came a whisper, voice long lost.

“Farewell, Snow.”

\------------

Sansa was still hiding behind the tomb of her grandfather when she saw Jon stop in his tracks, his face clouded with confusion. He turned back around to look at Robb’s statue.

“And you, Stark,” he chuckled and still with a smile on his face he left the crypts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I choose Jahaerys as the name for Jon because I think it is really stupid that Lyanna would call him Aegon when Rhaegar already had a son named Aegon, so that is my own alternation to canon.
> 
> "Impossibility is kiss away from reality." - Amanita Caplan, Sense8 (I highly recommend that show by the way :D)


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